


four

by watergator



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parenthood, Temper Tantrums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22913512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: being a dad is hard sometimes
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 116





	four

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echoedvoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoedvoices/gifts).



> written for laura for the phandomgives charity fic <3

Phil feels like he’s hanging by a thread.

It’s a Tuesday night, he has a headache behind his eyes that doesn’t seem to be shifting, the bottoms of his feet feel sore and painful from all the walking around he’s done today. His back hurts. His entire body hurts, actually, and there’s a heavy weight at his left leg where his four year old is hanging off of it.   
  
“Papa!” She calls out from where she’s wrapped her entire body around his calf. He tries to take a step forward but almost trips from the unwarranted weight there.   
  
He’d been hoping for a quick evening out to the shops; he needed to pick up a few things, some food for dinner tomorrow and he’d promised their daughter that if she was well behaved she could maybe be be treated with a few sweets and other sugary snacks that was surely enough to win over any child of her age.   
  
But so far Ruby has been far from well behaved. She’s still clinging to Phil’s leg despite him having to tell her at least three times to get up and walk properly like a big girl.   
  
But it’s clear now that she’s not listening, even after Phil’s almost tripped up her tiny body, she doesn’t seem to care.   
  
A few stiff steps later and she ends up on the floor of the shop. Phil looks down at her before sighing and reaching over to pick up a pair of pyjamas he needs to buy off the rack. She’s quickly growing out of the ones she already has, and Dan had reminded him before he left that they’d need to get something new for her.   
  
Not that she deserves it, Phil thinks. He’d much rather be buying himself some fluffy, warm pyjamas to snuggle down in, but instead he’s throwing the child sized nightwear into his basket, taking another step before he remembers Ruby is still on the floor, his foot taps against her shoe and he stops himself from accidentally stepping on her.   
  
“Rubes,” he says, voice wavering with thinly cut patience. “Don’t let me have to tell you again.”   
  
Ruby pouts from where she’s sat on the floor, still not making any effort to get up and listen.   
  
“When are we getting sweeties?” is all she asks. Phil is tired and he wants to go  _ home _ . He doesn’t want to be in this empty and boring Matalan on a Tuesday night at seven o’clock.    
  
He sucks in a breath. “I told you,” he tells her. “Sweets are only if you’ve been good.”   
  
She looks at him, her little brown eyes flicker across his face as if she’s trying to understand what he’s saying.   
  
Her tiny little child brain must not compute because she just juts her lip out again and looks up at him with the most practiced puppy eyes.   
  
“You said I could have sweeties.”   
  
Phil wishes those words had never even left his lips before this trip. He would eat those fucking words now. He should know better than to promise things he couldn’t really promise, but he’d been desperate to get her out of the house so Dan could work for the next couple of hours alone, in peace.   
  
He simply reaches down and pulls her up by the arm, and she luckily goes along with it, flopping up like a limp ragdoll.   
  
He just keeps walking down the aisle once she’s on her feet finally. Dan needs new socks and he said he’d pick some up for him and—

“Papa!” 

He looks around to see where his daughter has stopped in the aisle behind him. Her eyes are big and her little hands are balled up in tiny fists by her sides.   
  
“Ruby,” Phil simply says. “Don’t be silly now. Come on.”   
  
Her bottom lip wobbles and that’s when Phil knows he’s done for. Her eyes close tightly and fat tears dribble down her rosy cheeks as she lets out a soft cry.   
  
“You said!” She yells at him.   
  
Phil begins to feel his heart rate pick up inside his chest as he helplessly watches his daughter cry in the middle of the children’s pyjamas section. He sucks in a sharp breath as he moves towards her, taking her hand in his.   
  
“Ruby,” he says sternly, putting on his best dad head. “There’s no reason to cry. I told you, didn’t I.”   
  
It doesn’t seem to work. At all. Because the little breakdown about not being able to have sugar quickly turns into a full blown  _ meltdown. _

Her face goes red and she inhales deeply before she’s letting out a wail of a sceam. Phil’s eyes go wide and she flails her arms, able to escape Phil’s grip and she sets off, as fast as her little legs can take her.   
  
Phil drops the basket, quickly abandoning it as he rushes after his rogue toddler.    
Somehow she’s able to outrun his gangly legs, weaving and waddling away from her fretting father before somehow ending up in the woman’s underwear selection.

She’s still crying; it echoes off the walls, loud and piercing and Phil’s sure that by now everyone in the shop can probably hear her.

He tries to grab her but she’s skillfully hidden herself between the bra racks, and Phil has to awkwardly move past a woman who’s simply trying to browse for silky looking underwear when Phil reaches down and grabs Ruby gently by the wrist.

“Ruby,” Phil says sternly, almost through gritted teeth if he wasn’t trying too hard to keep himself composed. “Get up, now.

It doesn’t work of course, because she just cries harder and louder, and jerks herself away from Phil’s grip.

It ends up with her bonking her head on the pole behind her, and for a moment, she goes still. Phil’s palms are sweating and his heart is racing, thinking maybe she’s genuinely hurt herself.

But he’s proven wrong when Ruby’s expression turns into a sharp glare, little eyebrows furrow into a frown and she takes a deep breath to let out an even bigger scream.

“Ow, Papa!” She wails loudly. “You hurt me, Papa!”

Phil looks around and sure enough, the woman from before is giving him a dodgy look before she shuffles away, obviously not wanting to be involved in this, and Phil feels like his heart is in his goddamn throat, feeling his he’s about to vomit the bloody thing out of him.

Ruby is still crouched on the floor, using what little body weight she has to keep herself curled up away from Phil. There's tears and snot flying everywhere and her precious little curls are stuck down to her tomato coloured face rather grossly.

Phil wishes he could just get on the floor and cry as well, but he can’t, because he’s an adult and this is his child. Nobody else in this shop is going to help him and he has to do this himself.

He’s fucking  _ tired _ . He wants to go  _ home _ . And right now he wishes he could just walk out of the door and leave her here crying and screaming like a brat.

But of course, he’d never do that. The thought leaves his head as quickly as it had came, and it gives him the motivation to reach down and scoop her up off the floor into his arms.

She kicks and hits and screams and yells. He struggles not to drop her as he wriggles her body, desperate to escape his grasp, but Phil makes quick steps towards the exit where he can feel his own tears burning behind his eyes as he passes the rest of the shoppers who have all stopped to stare.

The doors swish open and Phil's making a beeline for the car.

Fuck the pyjamas, fuck Dan’s socks. Fuck all of this.

He’s able to keep a hold on Ruby whilst he fishes his keys out of his pocket and as soon as the door is open, Ruby practically falls out of his arms and lands into her car seat.

“I hate you!” She’s screaming between deep sobs, hiccuping and pausing only briefly to actually take breaths.

Phil’s hands are trembling as he attempts to secure the belt around her writhing body. She continues to kick and punch at Phil with every inch of strength she has.

“I hate you! I hate you papa, I want daddy!”

Her voice is becoming hoarse from how long she’s kept the act up, but Phil just sighs something equivalent to relief as the button clicks into place and the toddler is finally secured.

She doesn’t back down though; pulling and pushing to get out. Tiny baby hands grab and flap at the belt but to no avail. She gives a huff of frustration before she starts screaming again, kicking her little legs so hard, her shoe flies off, dropping to the car floor.

Phil doesn’t even think to bother about picking it up and trying to put it back onto her foot, and so he shuts the door and walks on wobbly legs to the driver's seat, where he gets in, onto to be met with more abuse from the screaming child behind him.

“Papa!” She screams. Her voice is strangled and loud, and it’s ringing painfully in Phil’s ears. 

“Papa! Papa! Papa!”

Phil tells her to be quiet but it doesn’t work - he doesn’t even think she heard him from all the fuss she’s making. Phil’s head feels like it’s on the verge of fully exploding. He hasn’t even put the keys in the ignition yet, and the people leaving the shop are looking at his car in bewilderment.

Phil wishes the Earth would open up and just swallow him whole. He watches the same woman from the bra section glance right at him as she crosses the car park, giving him a pitiful look before she returns to her own car with her shopping.

Ruby let’s out another scream, and that’s when Phil breaks.

He’s turning harshly in his seat to face her when he yells,

“That’s enough!”

The car falls silent. No more kicking. No more screaming. Just the steady laboured breaths between them.

Phil never shouts. He barely gets angry, really.

He can put on his stern Dad-head and be authoritative when he needs to be, but he never  _ ever  _ has yelled at Ruby like that before.

Her face crumples and she cries again. Little tiny hands come up to cover her face, smearing the snot and the tears over her cheeks as he hiccups a sob.

“Papa…” she says weakly. It’s less angry and more painful now.

Phil just leans forward and rests his head on the wheel in an attempt to steady himself.

“Papa! Please!”

Her tiny voice seems so unsure and sad. Phil knows he’s angry at her for a reason. She was misbehaving and this is where it’s lead to.

But it still hurts. It still hurts to hear her like this, and each little sob and hiccup and cry only makes his chest grow tighter and tighter with each breath.

He’s reaching for his phone when he realises he’s also crying too. There’s tears blurring his vision, and they splatter onto his screen once he’s picked it up and pressed a shaking thumb to unlock it.

Ruby is still crying, hard, in the backseat when Phil presses against the contact in his number and presses it to his ear.

The moment it clicks through he’s breaking down.

“Dan,” he says between a sob. Ruby calls out again and Phil presses the heel of his hand against his eyes to stop himself from crying anymore.

“Phil. Phil what’s wrong?”

There’s panic bleeding through each of Dan’s words. His voice is on edge and cutting like ice, and it only makes Phil feel worse.

“Nothing,” Phil sniffs. “Everything is. We’re okay, it’s just—“

He’s cut off by a sharp scream. It appears Ruby’s stopped the crying baby act and is back to the more aggressive approach.

“I can hear her, babe,” Dan says softly, voice understanding.

Because of  _ course  _ Dan is understanding. Of course they’re half the city apart and he can already understand what’s going on.

Phil just sniffs and ignores that Ruby has now pulled her remaining shoe off and thrown it past Phil’s head.

“I’ll come and get you,” Dan says sternly, and Phil can only imagine him now; jumping up off his chair and grabbing his coat.

But Phil shakes his head and more tears land on his lap. 

“No,” he protests weakly. “No, don’t.”

There’s a sudden silence on the other end, almost like Dan’s contemplating if it’s worth putting up a fight for.

He must come to a conclusion quickly, because he sighs heavily and then says,

“Just… Drive carefully, alright?”

Phil sniffs again and nods. “Of course.” Then, with a quiet voice, he adds. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The line goes dead and Phil's back in the reality of his toddler still screaming and kicking behind him. He’s not sure where all the energy comes from in such a tiny little body, but Phil wishes that maybe he could have that energy. She carries on crying and yelling and flapping about the entire drive home.

It’s not until the last bit of the journey when the sobs slowly seem to calm, and sniffs start to fade away, and with a quick glance to his mirror, Phil sees that she’s actually managed to wear herself out as she lays in her car seat, head lulled back and mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps seemingly peacefully, letting out little huffed snores every now and then.

It’s nice to have peace and quiet for once, Phil thinks, but it also makes him more mad.

He’s gripping the wheel tight enough for white to burst under his skin, and when he pulls up onto the drive, Dan’s already stood in the doorway.

He has his robe wrapped around his body and his feet are shoved into the slippers Phil got him for Christmas.

He looks the picture of calm and relaxation all whilst Phil feels the completely polar opposite.

He turns the ignition off and Dan’s already hopping his way to the car, stopping to wait for Phil to get out when he says in a quiet voice.

“Want me to grab her?”

Phil pushes his glasses up over his forehead so he can pinch the bridge of his nose and nod.

“Please. Thank you.”

He holds his breath as he listens to the sound of Dan popping the door open and unclipping the car seat from the sleeping child,  Ruby murmurs, evident that she’s now awake, and Phil’s preparing himself for the worst of it… but it doesn’t come.

Ruby doesn’t set herself off again, nor does she start kicking and screaming at Dan.

Instead her little hands fist themselves against the hem of his robe and she’s burning her head into his neck.

Phil follows them inside, the feeling of anger and hurt builds up inside his chest with each step he makes, feeling much like a dangerous game of jenga that’s ready to just fall apart at any moment.

Dan must take Ruby straight to bed, getting her dressed and probably clearing up the mess she’s gotten herself into, and Phil just makes a beeline towards the bathroom where he shuts and locks the door and sits on the toilet.

He’s usually fine with crying in front of Dan. He’s seen him at his lowest, he’s cried on his shoulder more times than he can count on his fingers, it's usually not a huge deal for them to break down in front of each other; it’s nothing to be  _ ashamed  _ of. 

But feeling like a crappy parent feels like it is.

Feeling like a dad who can’t handle his toddler having a bit of a tantrum in a shop so much so that he’s given up so easily, feels like a huge failure. He feels like even though Dan knows him and loves him and understands him, it’s something to hide away from, like Dan won’t want Phil around their child if he’s so incompetent all the time.

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes to try and stop the flow of tears that’s coming, but it’s too late. His palms grow wet and he holds back a sob that escapes him, pushing through his chest when there’s a soft knock at the door.

He wipes away the dampness on his cheeks with the back of his hands and sucks in a shaky breath.

“Yeah. Hang on.”

He stands up and looks at himself in the mirror.

He’s not often been too concerned about his image; he’s happily gone through most of his life with a very lucky ignorant bliss to his own appearance. So long ago was he worried about a simple hair cut, and since then, he’s quite enjoyed the joys of ageing. Dan would kiss his temples and the lines around his eyes and call him perfect no matter what. He liked looking older, no longer hoarding that baby face he once had when he was twenty two years old.

He was a dad now, and he looked like one.

But as he looks in the mirror, he doesn’t feel like a dad, or at least, a very good one.

His eyes are puffy and red, his skin is blotchy and starting to break out, his hair is a mess, grey hairs are more evident now than they ever have been. He looks tired and he feels about a thousand years old. His heart sinks in his chest and before he can think about it for too much longer he hears shifting footsteps outside the door, reminding him who’s waiting for him on the other side.

He takes a deep breath in, and exhales as he reaches for the door and opens it.

Dan’s stood there, patient as ever, clad in his stupidly good robe that makes him look like some rich and amazing business man. His hair is extra curly from the dampness of the shower he must have had whilst Phil was out, and his skin looks soft, and kissable.

And whilst Phil enjoys admiring Dan looking like this, it only makes him feel older, and more grosser.

“Hey you,” Dan croaks. He has a careful look about him. Phil calls it his Therapist Face; something he’s picked up on over the years of his own therapy sessions, and whilst it isn’t an inherently  _ bad  _ thing for Dan to be taking the angle of his therapist, sometimes it makes Phil feels small and unsure.

But he doesn’t want to fight, or cry any more today, so he just sighs, and like that it’s like some brain wave connection that has Dan opening his arms and Phil practically collapsing into his hold.

They stand like that for a moment, a large and warm hand rubs circles through his chest and Phil sighs right into the crook of his neck where it feels like it’s safest there.

“She was so much easier when she was little,” Phil whispers. It’s supposed to be a joke but it still rings true, making his eyes burn with the threat of more tears now that he has Dan wrapped around him.

“I know,” Dan tells him, a slight chuckle to his voice but it’s comforting and soft. “Nobody said being a dad was easy.”

Phil swallows thickly and buries his nose deeper into the fluffy collar of his bathrobe.

“Then maybe I’m not cut out for it,” he says sadly.

Dan pulls away from him and Phil’s quick to wipe away his tears with the back of his wrists until there’s a hand cupping his cheek, making him look up.

“Hey,” Dan says softly. He looks so beautiful right now and Phil wishes he could just hold him and cry for a little longer. And maybe he will, later tonight, but right now he  _ knows  _ he has to listen to what his husband has to say, because it’ll be of some importance.

“You’re a good dad,” Dan tells him. His eyes are soft and comforting and it makes Phil feel more at ease when he looks at him.

“I was so embarrassed, Dan,” he tells him with a wobble to his voice. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Dan clicks his tongue and uses his fingers to brush back the wild strands of hair that have fallen out of its style and into his eyes.

“But you did,” Dan assures him. “You left and straight home. You knew exactly what to do.”

Phil opens his mouth and shuts it again. 

He supposes Dan has a point. He could have easily stayed in the shop and cried in front of everyone else whilst he continued to struggle with his child. But he didn’t; he picked her up when he knew it was too far gone and his first port of call was to ring Dan.

“There’s no handbook in being a good dad, Phil,” Dan tells him, still running his fingers through his floppy hair. “You’re doing a good job though, I promise you that. You’re not a bad dad because of one bad meltdown.”

Phil sniffs and nods in a silent agreement. 

“If that was the case, you’d have left me a long time ago,” Dan grins.

Phil splutters a watery laugh and swats his arm weakly.

“Shut up,” he mutters with a small smile, pressing his lips together to hide it, but Dan sees straight through him.

Dan just grins and pulls him in again, just quick enough to press his lips against his forehead. Phil melts into the feeling for a moment, before it’s gone again.

“I sent her to bed,” Dan tells him. “She’s got her pyjamas on but I told her she had to come out here and say sorry for her behaviour today.”

Phil sighs, and lets his shoulders relax from all the tension there.

“Thank you,” he tells him, voice sincere. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Dan just smiles, his eyes go all squinty and his dimple is deep. It makes Phil’s heart flip over his chest for the billionth time in his life.

Dan reaches up and rubs his thumb along his tear tracked cheek. “I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

Dan’s already got the kettle going for a cup of tea and just as Phil’s pulling out their favourite novelty mugs, there’s the sound of small little footsteps coming up behind him.

“Papa?” Ruby’s voice is small and timid, and when Phil looks around and down at her, she’s dressed in a pair of Tweenies pyjamas and the smallest and sweetest slippers that fit snugly on her tiny feet. 

She also had her blankie in one hand and the other is clutching her little plastic sippy cup.

It’d become a new tradition for Phil to make her a warm cup of milk before bed, to tuck her in and kiss her goodnight. Phil’s stomach twists as he looks down at his daughter, who’s looking right back up at him through wet lashes, and big, round eyes.

“M’sorry,” she mumbles, sticking both her thumb and the corner of her blanket into her mouth, before taking a few short steps where she collided with Phil’s leg and burrows her face there to avoid looking at him.

Phil sighs gently before reaching down to scoop her up. She clings onto him like a koala.

There’s no lightbulb moment. No ding goes off inside his head - no moment to realise what went wrong and why and how it got fixed.

She’s just a toddler with an uneven amount of understanding of what emotions really are. And Phil’s only a bigger version of that, still trying to figure it out after thirty plus years.

He can’t be angry at her forever; he doesn’t think it’s actually physically possible. But she won’t really understand what she did wrong today. She’ll be sorry like she said she was, ask for her milk, go to bed and probably wake up tomorrow in a much better mood.

There’s no indication to Phil that it won’t happen again. In the next three days he could be here, in the very kitchen having the exact same moment with his four year old, because she’s still learning. 

And he is as well.

He kisses the top of her head. That beautiful baby smell she had when she first came into the world is long gone now, but sometimes Phil feels like it’s still there. She’s still his baby no matter how big she gets. She always will be.

“I love you, you know that?” He mumbles against her head. She huffs a giggle and pushes herself away from Phil’s grip to look at him.

She has a wonky smile plastered across her face, big chubby cheeks are almost pinchable, and Phil is reminded as to why he really does love being a dad.

“I love you too, Papa,” she smiles before she’s waving around her cup, reminding Phil of one of the reasons she sought him out.

He sets her down and takes it gently from her tiny grabby hands. She clings to his leg whilst he makes the milk, and adds in a little bit of chocolate, just their little secret between them, Dan doesn’t have to know.

And when he puts her to bed, she easily goes. There’s no fuss or fight, no yelling or screaming and no more tears. Phil pulls the covers up over her curled up body and kisses her on the head once again.

Once she’s asleep and her milk is all gone, Phil retreats to the kitchen where Dan’s finishing off their tea, handing Phil his. 

He takes a sip and sighs. “I think I could sleep for about a million years right now,” he tells him.

Dan snorts a laugh. “Might as well get some rest whilst we can, eh?”

Phil heart squeezes in his chest as he looks over at Dan. The sun has already gone down and the soft orange glow of their kitchen lamp makes him look as beautiful as ever.

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” Phil asks. “With another baby soon?”

Dan sips on his drink and hums. “It might actually be good for her,” he suggests. “She might like being a big sister.”

Phil sighs and sets his mug down to rub at his eyes. “I hope so. I just don’t need that added stress, y’know? A baby is hard enough to look after but a baby  _ and  _ a toddler?”

Dan’s setting his own drink down to cross the space between them and he opens his arms up once again for Phil to fall into.

“We’re  _ good  _ parents,” Dan reminds him again. Like he has been doing for the last four years of their life. Sometimes it’s Phil telling Dan that, but either way, they’ve always supported one another, no matter what.

“She loves you, Phil,” Dan tells him. “And any other kid in our life is gonna love you too.”

Phil looks at Dan and smiles. He feels like crying again, but for entirely different reasons than earlier. 

“Our kids are gonna be  _ so  _ fucking lucky to have us as parents, hm?” Dan’s says in a hushed voice. “We have so much love to give, they’re bound to get sick of us sooner or later.”

Phil laughs and buries his head into Dan’s chest with a hearty laugh. 

“You’re right,” he says once he’s pulled himself away. “I can’t wait to have our family be a little bit bigger.”

Dan smiles so wide. “It’s scary, huh?”

Phil smiles. “So scary. But I’m glad I have you.”

Dan kisses him, slow and sweet and warmly, Phil never wants to break apart. 

The eventually do, and Phil hums; a noise between content and wanting more.

“You always have me. You always have  _ us, _ Phil.”

Phil smiles and kisses him back. A little longer this time, just because he can.

They break away and it leaves them both a little breathless. Dan’s forehead nudges against Phil’s and that’s where it stays.

“It’s always gonna be us, yeah?” Phil whispers.

It doesn’t make much sense other than in his own head, but Dan understands. 

He always does.

And he smiles, and presses his lips to the end of Phil’s nose and sighs happily when he says,

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator


End file.
